


Where Is Home For You?

by orphan_account



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bartender/Trophy Wife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Eve Polastri Needs a Hug, F/F, Inspired by Killing Eve (TV 2018), Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Eve Polastri, POV Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Therapist Carolyn Martens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24573826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “How do you know?”“I know you live in a modern high-rise near St. Pauls, that it is bland. All new builds are. That you feel you have no connection to the place. That it is only a temporary residence in your mind, even if you don’t know it.”Eve gripped the glass a little tighter.“I know you don’t feel as if you have a home, anywhere to call yours. That you wake up each day feeling lonely. That you have felt it for so long you do not even know who you are anymore. That dressing up and buying these clothes has become something for you to focus on.”-A bartender Villanelle & Trophy Wife Eve Polastri AU (not a completely new concept in the fandom).
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 10
Kudos: 182





	1. Fundraiser

Eve stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Hair done up into a bun on top of her head. 

Eyes tracing along dark, striped navy slacks she wore. Accompanied by a checked, multi-coloured, brown suit jacket. That was worn over the top of a plain white shirt with a plunging v neck.

Her lips were painted a dark, rich rosewood.

A simple, silver pendent hung around her neck.

A present from Niko.

And finally, she had slipped on a pair of clear, white oxfords. Tying everything together.

She hated having to attend fundraisers, being draped across Niko’s arm as he made pointless small talk.

It was dull, boring. Made Eve feel as if the life was being sucked out of her.

_These are very important people, and we need to make an impression._

His voice rang in her mind, having lost count of how many times he’d said that to her.

Each Gala, fundraiser and function they attended, seemed identical to the last. Blurring together into a mass of dancing, drinks, plain greys, blues and blacks. All topped off with boring conversations that felt as if it lasted for hours.

One of her only pleasures had become dressing up to attend these parties. While she knew the compliments, people gave her were hollow, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

They were only ever after Niko. His money. His company. She was only a distraction to them.

Talking to her was a means to an end. A way of appeasing him. Nothing more and nothing less. A way of trying to get on his good side.

She was sick of what her life had become. A phone full of contacts she felt no connection too. A life where anything they did would be scrutinized over by the media.

It was stifling. Eve felt as if she was being drowned or asphyxiated by it all. How god damn lonely she felt all the time.

No one understood. They looked at her and saw only Niko’s wife.

They didn’t see her, didn’t see Eve. They just saw Eve Polastri.

Yet life carried on. And she was stuck in the loop hers had become.

“Eve, are you ready?”

Niko’s voice floating through into the room.

Sighing, she turned to look at the doorway leading into their bedroom.

“Yeah, just coming.”

_Just a couple of hours._

She told herself.

Eve could survive that.

She’d spent longer at a fundraiser before. This would just be another dull party to add to her list. Nothing would change and their life would carry on as usual.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

* * *

Villanelle hated fundraisers.

They were full of boring old men, wearing dull, grey and black suits which if given the chance she would burn at the soonest opportunity.

Galas she could enjoy, could watch as men and women alike came dressed in an assortment of colourful clothes. Was able to observe as they gracefully danced, fabrics blurring together.

But no, fundraisers were just dull and dreary, fall stop.

She sighed, chin resting on her hand as she stood behind the bar. Watching people talk with disinterest.

Why did Konstantin have to put her on the staff roster for this party? He knew she hated them. Knew she would much rather be working at the Twelve.

It was a private club in the centre of London. One of eleven other venues the company owned in major cities around Europe.

Villanelle having quickly risen in their staff. From cashier to waitress and finally bartender.

She enjoyed working at the bar. Having the freedom to create her own drinks, talking to people as they ordered. She was reluctant to move from her position.

Even after Konstantin had said they were considering promoting her, Villanelle knew she would turn them down.

She enjoyed the point her life was at, the freedom it gave her, the people she met. Countries she travelled too. It was freeing, exhilarating.

Yet the lingering thought that she was alone, still stuck in the back of her mind. That there was no one to share this with. No one to sleep alongside with or spend nights talking lazily. No one to watch movies with.

There was a fleeting romantic foray with a waitress from the Twelve a couple of months back. Nadia had been her name. She was all excitable energy and Shy touches. Villanelle knew she intimidated her, could feel Nadia unravelling underneath her touch.

It was fun, a distraction. But that was it. Villanelle having felt nothing more for her apart from physical attraction.

She hadn’t seen her since. Assuming she moved to another club. And if she was brutally honest, she didn’t much care what happened to her.

Sighing, Villanelles gaze skimmed across the people in-front of her.

Stopping when she saw a flash of brown.

Her gaze shifted, trying to get a better view. Raising her head to try and see over the people in-front of her.

That’s when she saw her.

An Asian woman was stood ten or so meters in-front of her. Arms linked with a man who was undoubtedly in his mid-forties.

Her gaze scanned across the woman. Drinking in her appearance.

She wore a form fitting, brown, multi-coloured suit jacket that Villanelle knew was from Celine. It was paired with a white, sinking v neck and she would have been lying if she said her eyes didn’t trace down the breadth of the women’s exposed skin.

Eventually reaching the dark, striped navy slacks she wore, before finally landing on white oxfords.

She was Beautiful.

Villanelle thought offhandedly. Gaze shifting back up to the women’s face.

She took in the shade of her lipstick, how her eyes wrinkled at each corner as she laughed. But what Villanelle observed most was the look in her eyes. Each smile never reaching them.

How there was no twinkle, no spark of joy or happiness. She looked hollow. As if every movement wasn’t her own.

It was haunting.

But what Villanelle thought was how she felt the same. That her own, deep seeded loneliness was mirrored in this woman.

That’s when she saw her move.

Eyes connecting.

And Villanelle swore she saw recognition and understanding reflected in her eyes.

Before it was gone.

The woman turning to talk to someone next to her.

* * *

The fundraiser was as she expected. Dull, boring, and tiresome.

All Eve wanted was to go back to their London penthouse. Sink into soft bed sheets and hope she wouldn’t wake up come the next day.

Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so bored.

Alone.

Eve thought of Niko, what he would do if they were no longer together. And the bitter voice at the back of her mind thought he wouldn’t even care. Would find someone else to drape across his arm.

Maybe he would finally ask his assistant out.

Gemma.

Eve wasn’t blind. Whenever she would visit him at work, Gemma would be there. She reminded her of an annoying puppy. Lapping up any morsel he gave her.

She was just so tired of it all. Tired of the pretences she put up for him, for these people.

But she knew nothing would change.

Maybe this was how the rest of her life would play out. Fundraiser after fundraiser, eventually find somewhere out of the city. Settle down, have children, grow old.

And all Eve could feel was indifference at the thought.

Even as she laughed along with whatever the people around her were saying.

She didn’t care.

Just a couple more hours and they would leave, and this night would finally be over.

Just as she was turning to talk to one of Nikos colleagues, Eve caught someone staring at her.

Their eyes connecting.

She observed the woman in-front of her.

Tall. Honey blonde hair done up into a bun atop her head. Similarly, to her own apart from the silk scarf that held it in place.

She was wearing a striped, pink and blue shirt with a Denim jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

She was stunning.

Eve thought.

Time feeling as if it slowed around her, eyes trailing across the blonde’s features. High cheekbones, supple lips, wide and alert eyes. It was the look she saw in her hazel irises that unsettled Eve the most.

They were almost inaccessible, guarded. Yet she knew what to look for.

Could see the glint of emptiness held in them. One that mirrored her own.

Yet before she had the chance to make any move, or even conger another thought, reality came crashing back down.

Eve’s name ringing in her ears.

Forcing a smile across her face, she turned to look at the person talking to her.

Even as she spoke, hazel eyes filled her mind.

* * *

“Hugo.”

Villanelle called, turning to the man a couple of feet away from her. Watching as he opened the till.

“Yeah?”

He asked distractedly.

“Who is that?”

He turned to look at her. Eyes following where Villanelles raised hand was pointing.

“The woman in the brown jacket?”

She nodded.

“Eve Polastri.”

He turned back to the till.

“Eve Polastri.”

Name rolling of her tongue.

“Eve _Polastri_.”

She said it quietly now. More of a soft exhale.

“Who is she?”

“What, you don’t know?”

Hugo smirked to himself. Raising his arms in surrender when he saw Villanelle glaring at him.

“Ok, ok, you know Niko Polastri, right?”

Villanelle looked at him blankly.

“Times man of the year?”

Hugo gestured towards his face.

“Moustache?”

She continued to stare at him.

“Nothing, really?”

Villanelle shrugged, turning to look back at Eve.

“I do not care about businessmen.”

“Yeah, but he’s not just a businessman. You realise how much charitable work he’s done for this country? He’s basically the embodiment of the second coming.”

She didn’t buy into it. How Hugo sung his praises.

People hid behind good dead’s, used them as a mask. A way of getting what they wanted. It was something she knew all too well.

“If only he weren’t as straight as a lamp post.”

He said wistfully.

“Worth putting up with a little facial hair for.”

Villanelle ignored him. Eyes still pinned to the woman in front of her.

She was different.

Unlike anyone she’d come across before. Sticking out in the crowd of greys, blues, and blacks. Men with wives and lovers, draped across their arms.

Eve didn’t fit in here and it wasn’t just the clothes she wore.

Villanelle just knew.

Could see it in her. A mirror image of her own self.

And rather than scare her. Rather than make her feel as if she should run from it. Get as far away from Eve as possible.

For the first time that she could remember, Villanelle no longer felt alone.

* * *

It was an hour later when Eve could feel her feet become sore from standing. Mouth going dry from incessant small talk.

Excusing herself to the bathroom and sliding into a stall in the women’s toilets.

She sat there.

Staring blankly at the door in front of her.

She wouldn’t cry. Hell, she couldn’t anymore. Tears having dried up weeks ago now.

It was crippling. The hollow feeling in her chest, a loneliness so deep it felt drowning.

Her breath was steady, coming out in slow, gradual puffs of air.

Normal.

Everything was normal.

But it wasn’t was it? Eve didn’t feel normal. Was sick to fucking death of normal. Of everything. It bored her to tears. If she had any left to shed.

Hazel eyes entered her mind again.

What she’d seen in them.

How for one instant, Eve could feel something that wasn’t just loneliness. That for a fleeting moment she felt as if someone understood. That someone finally got it.

Eve chuckled dryly to herself.

She was being delusional. What planet must she be on to think this one woman, someone whose name she didn’t even know, would understand.

She was just another member of staff.

A bartender. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet she still couldn’t shake wide, cat like eyes out of her mind. Because for one moment, it gave her something to hold onto.

Wasn’t that what Carolyn kept telling her?

To find something to hold onto. Something she can focus on.

_She didn’t mean like this._

Eve thought.

God, she was fucked up.

Turning, she flushed the unused toilet. Hoping that if there was anyone in the bathroom they wouldn’t think twice.

Eve stared at her reflection in the mirror after exiting the cubical. Hands under a stream of warm water as it flowed from the tap.

She looked fine.

Together.

It felt detached. Her own reflection not feeling as if it belonged to her. The person looking back seeming to be someone else entirely. Not her. Not Eve.

She wasn’t aware of a stall door opening behind her. Too focused on the reflection in-front of her.

It wasn’t until she felt the presence of someone next to her, that Eve’s gaze finally shifted. Meeting bright, hazel irises in the mirror.

And she swore time slowed again.

Being transported back to only an hour or so ago.

She finally turned to look at the woman.

Eve hadn’t been able to see the small flecks of gold in her eyes previously. Having been too far away.

Yet now, now she was absorbing every detail. Committing it to memory without even realising.

They stood, staring at one another. It could’ve been hours, days for all Eve cared. Transfixed.

Until finally, the young woman turned away. Moving to pull paper towels out of the dispenser, drying her hands. Unaware she had even washed them.

It wasn’t until she reached the bathrooms door, that Eve heard her speak.

“You should wear it down.”

Russian.

Even noted. Taking in the way each word rolled off her tongue.

And with that, she was gone.

Leaving Eve alone. With only wet hands and spiralling thoughts.

* * *

“How’s your week been?”

“Ok, tiring but ok.”

Eve fiddled with her hands. Fingers intwined over her stomach.

“What was ok about it?”

“We went to another fundraiser a couple of days ago. I was able to wear some of the clothes I bought last week… And Niko took us to a restaurant along Mayfair yesterday.”

Carolyn nodded.

“Was that it?”

Eve shook her head. Staring up at the ceiling.

“No, there… There was this woman.”

“Someone you know?”

“No.”

Eve laid there for a moment. Gathering her thoughts.

“She was at the fundraiser, a member of staff.”

She could hear as Carolyn wrote something down.

“What was she like?”

“Young, twenty something, twenty-six maybe? She… She had high cheek bones and wide eyes; they were almost cat like. A lost look in them. Almost inaccessible.”

Eve focused on the steady rise and fall of her chest.

“Were there any other women there?”

There was. But she hadn’t payed them a second thought.

“Yeah.”

“Did you look at these women? Like you looked at her?”

_No._

The thought was quick. Almost giving her whiplash.

“Not really.”

Carolyn nodded.

“Why do you think that was?”

_I don’t know._

Eve wanted to say.

But she knew Carolyn would see through the lie. They’d been having these sessions for long enough now.

“I felt as if I related to her.”

And it was the truth. Part of it anyway.

“Why do you think that was?”

“There… There was just this look, in her eyes. It felt like something I’d seen before, looking at myself.”

“What else?”

“I didn’t feel alone, while looking at her. It was only for a moment. But I felt it.”

She let the silence settle between them.

“You feel the both of you are the same as each other. That for some reason this woman understands.”

Eve nodded.

“Do you know her name?”

She shook her head. It was a beat or two before Carolyn spoke again.

“I think you should try and find her.”

“What?”

“This woman, if you whole heartedly believe she understands, then it would be good for you to try and find her.”

Eve stayed silent.

“This is not easy Eve, it is a long road that could take years, you know this. And if you think she could help, in anyway, even if just to prove what you feel wrong. I believe it will help you.”

“Wouldn’t it be strange? Just, having a stranger come up to you and say _Sorry, but I felt like you understood, can we maybe swap phone numbers?_ Don’t you think that will just creep her out?”

Carolyn sat. Thinking.

“That’s for you to find out.”

And in all honesty, what did she have to lose?

Eve couldn’t think of anything.

“Ok.”

Carolyn nodded.

“Have you made any plans, for next week?”

Goals, that was what she kept reminding her.

That Eve needed to keep giving herself something to focus on.

Their session carried on much as usual after that.

Carolyn continuing on to ask how she felt going to bed, what she thought about when first waking up and so on.

It was one of the few times Eve lied to her.

Not telling Carolyn that each night she had dreams of round, brown irises.

A face framed against honey blonde hair. Someone whispering understanding words to her.

She didn’t say any of it.

Eventually Eve slid into the back of a waiting car, having said her goodbyes to Carolyn for the week.

It was Wednesday. Half past two.

“Mrs Polastri?”

Dominik asked.

He was her driver. Mid-twenties.

“Where too?”

 _I don’t know_.

She thought.

All Eve wanted was to disappear into the soft leather seat.

Feel something that wasn’t the emotions flowing through her veins. Wasn’t a distant, impossible hope of brown eyes.

Which she kept reminding herself was only born out of her own, misguided hope.

“Home.”

She whispered.

Not knowing exactly where her home was.

* * *

Villanelle loved shopping.

The pleasure of running her hands across soft, delicate fabrics. The feel of those materials against her skin.

It was calming. A piece that settled over her when she tried on new clothes. Combining them into various ensembles.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Twisting and turning.

Admiring how she looked.

“Beautiful.”

Villanelle muttered. Smiling to herself.

She wore a dark, brocade suit. A mix of blue and red patterns printed across its surface.

Her hair was done up into tight braids, having been pinned behind her head.

She smiled to herself.

This was exactly what she needed.

Something to help loosen up. De-stress from her thoughts.

It was very inconvenient.

Even so, Villanelle couldn’t bring herself to mind. Eve was someone she would never tire thinking of. Even if it could be a tad frustrating.

She’d spent the night after the fundraiser researching the woman. Absorbing each piece of information, she could find.

Villanelle had quickly decided she hated Niko Polastri.

Not just because he was blind. Unable to comprehend what was right in front of him.

But because his saggy, fudge looking face, fuzzy moustache and all, reminded her a little too much of a paedophile.

Which wasn’t something she wanted to focus on when thinking about Eve.

 _Men_.

Villanelle rolled her eyes at the thought.

They were so boring.

Eve deserved more than him. Deserved someone that understood her for who she truly was.

Each image she’d found of them together, Villanelle was quickly able to see Eve’s true emotions. You would’ve had to be blind not to see them.

She was joyless. Miserable. Hollow.

Just like Villanelle had been.

She could tell Eve didn’t know who she was anymore. Could see that she lost herself some way along the road.

And it pained her. A deep, mild twinge shooting through her heat.

Because Eve made Villanelle feel, even if she didn’t know it.

The cashier looked at her sceptically when she offered her MasterCard. Still wearing the suit, she had just tried on.

Villanelle only smiled. Waiting for the transaction to finish.

Having hoisted the shopping bags into her arms. Villanelle began to try and grab the attention of a passing cab.

Sliding into the back only a couple of seconds later. Bags and all.

The driver eyed her in his rear-view mirror.

“Where to Miss?”

Villanelle placed an index finger against her chin. Taking a posture of mock thought, before directing him back to her apartment.

As they came to a stop at a red light, ten or so minutes from Villanelle’s apartment block, she pulled a perfume box out of the shopping bag next to her. Smiling at the lettering on the front. Opening it.

Running a thumb over the perfume bottles label, nestled within soft silk.

The thought of Eve’s own hands cradling the box. Pulling the perfume bottle out. Wearing it.

It sent a shiver down Villanelles spine.

All she had to do now, was make sure it got to her.

It hadn’t been hard to find her address, considering most journalists spend their days scoping the place out.

She snorted.

_Why don’t they get a real life?_

Floating through her mind.

* * *

Eve was tired.

Not necessarily from sleep, just tired in general.

The show she was watching, appeared numbingly dull. Not paying it an ounce of attention.

She nursed the stem of her wine glass. Not having drunk more than a quarter of it in the last hour.

Niko would be home soon. Was bound to ask how her therapy went and she was just not in the mood to answer his questions.

All she wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep until next month, maybe even next year.

Usually she could manage to get by with answering in simple nouns or adjectives. Yet she had an inkling he wouldn’t let that pass tonight.

She knew none of this was Nikos fault. Knew he only wanted his wife back.

But what if his wife was already gone? Had been for months now.

Eve didn’t feel like the woman Niko married. Not anymore. She could feel herself changing and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing at the moment.

She felt trapped. Eve had nowhere else to go. No place to try and rebuild herself from. No real friends that would happily put her up for a couple of weeks.

It was just her and Niko.

No one else and god if it didn’t make her feel even more detached from everything going on around her.

Lost in thought, Eve was unaware of the front door opening and closing behind her.

“Hey.”

Niko’s voice floated through the room, being what finally broke Eve out of her reverie.

“Hi.”

She said, turning to look at him. Fake smile plastered across her face. 

“How was your session?”

“Ok.”

She willed him to not probe any deeper. To leave it at that.

“Did Carolyn give you anymore advice?”

Eve shrugged, turning back to the TV. Smile slipping.

“Not really, just keep giving myself something to focus on, you know? Same old, same old.”

Niko nodded. Watching his wife.

He slung his coat over a chair in the kitchenette before moving to sit next to her. Having toed off his shoes by the door as he came in.

“What are you watching?”

“I’m not really sure.”

And she truly wasn’t.

Eve was only grateful Niko hadn’t tried to push anymore questions out of her.

“I’m going to Poland for a couple of weeks.”

He said after a minute. Silence having settled between them.

“Oh?”  
Eve asked, trying to sound surprised. Eyes still glued to the screen in-front of her.

She could hear Niko sigh.

“I’m leaving this Friday, I wanted to know if you would come with me? I think getting away from everything might do you some good.”

Eve almost wanted to laugh.

Of course, he would have thought that. Not understood that she wouldn’t be getting away from it all. Would still have the reminder of him and their life hanging over her.

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea, I really can’t afford to miss my sessions.”

Eve looked down at her hands. Watching as her fingers flexed around the wine glass. Crimson liquid swirling.

“Please Eve, I promise you won’t have to hear anything about work. Just… We need this.”

_We._

It broke through every thought she had. A knife slicing through soft butter. Messy.

How did he expect her to think of them when she could barely think about herself?

“I’m sorry.”

She whispered.

The numbness she’d managed to fight off today seeping in.

It felt like hours before either of them moved. Niko finally moving to rub a soothing hand against his forehead.

“No, It’s… It’s ok, I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom tonight. Do you want anything for dinner?”

She shook her head.

They sat like that. Neither talking nor moving until the end of the show, almost an hour later.

Niko was the first to rise. Distantly aware that he’d grabbed leftover takeout from the fridge, before he disappeared into the spare bedroom.

Eve being left alone.

Feeling numb and empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might be continuing this, maybe? Possibly?
> 
> Come shout at me on Twitter @Virelaiverse


	2. Nothing Left To Lose

It’s eight thirty-one on Friday Morning when Niko leaves for the airport.

Eve’s awake.

Can hear as he moves around the room, quietly packing.

She’s staring blankly at the wall in-front of her, having moved to lie on her side. Back facing Niko.

She only closes her eyes as he leans over to kiss her forehead, whispering a soft goodbye.

And then he’s gone.

Leaving Eve in the still, quiet apartment.

She tries to will herself to go back to sleep.

Forcing her mind to go blank as she focuses on the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

By some divine miracle she does actually manage to fall asleep again.

Yet when she’s awoken by the distant sound of knocking, the clock on her nightstand reads nine forty-six.

Eve has slipped on a silk gown when she answers the door. Feet bare against smooth, varnished floor.

“This arrived for you Mrs.”

The concierge stood in front of her. Kenny’s his name if she can recall. He’s holding out a rectangular box to her, bow neatly tied around it.

“Thanks.”

She smiles. Strained, taking the box. Anything to get rid of him at the moment.

He smiles back politely, albeit slightly awkward, before Turning to leave.

It’s a couple of seconds later when Eve slides the box onto the kitchen island. Having closed the front door.

She stares at it for a minute.

Eyes trailing along its edges. Finding creases in the soft, red fabric of the bow.

Finally, Eve moves to undo it. Watching as the bow easily falls away. Revealing a matte, golden name.

 _La Villanelle_.

French.

She thinks dimly, aware of the brand. Their heritage. Hell, she’s pretty sure she owns some of their summer collection.

Grasping the boxes lid, she pulls it open.

A vintage, glass perfume bottle being revealed. Tucked neatly in soft silk.

She stares at it for a couple of seconds. Eyes trailing across the label, before noticing a card neatly tucked to the side.

Eve pulls it out.

_Wear it down. X_

Scrawled in flowing handwriting.

Eve feels as if the room around her stops. Air feeling thick.

She’s transported back to four days ago. Another boring fundraiser. Brown eyes and a bathroom.

Dropping the card, she takes a step back.

Because she feels.

Eve can’t help but focus on the emotions. Surprise, shock, bewilderment and a deep, tinge of hope.

It’s refreshing and new. No longer loneliness or a numbing, drowning indifference she had felt last night.

_I think you should try and find her._

Carolyn’s words ring in her mind.

And she smiled. She smiled for what felt like the first time in months.

Not a plastered, fake mask she wore to conceal how she felt.

This one reached her eyes. A bubbling, low joy in the pit of her stomach.

Because this woman had found her.

Spent time tracking Eve down.

Mind reeling, she spun around.

Picking up the landline that rested on a table next to the settee, waiting for it to connect.

Kenny’s familiar voice coming through a second later.

“Mrs Polastri?”

“Kenny, hi, you know the box you gave to me this morning. Do you think you could tell me who delivered it?”

She could hear as he moved, the sound of papers being shuffled clear.

“A Mr Turner came in with it this morning.”

Turner.

The word stuck in her head like a heavy weight. Dragging everything else down with it.

“Do you know his first name?”

“Hugo.”

Kenny supplied quickly.

Hugo Turner.

Hugo _Turner_.

“Ok, thank you.”

She hung up then. Kenny’s ‘Your welcome’ falling on deaf ears.

Eve made a beeline for her phone. Grasping it off her nightstand a couple of seconds later.

It wasn’t long before she’d sent an email asking for the employee list from the fundraiser.

_You should try and give yourself something to focus on._

Carolyn told her a couple of sessions in.

_Coping mechanisms. That’s what is important._

That Eve should try and find out what works for her.

This is fucked up.

She thought. How could this be something she is focusing on? This woman hardly knew her. Was probably only trying to be nice or get on her good side. Find a way of getting Nikos money.

Because Eve didn’t matter to them did, she? Just a pawn to be used.

What emotions she allowed herself to feel beginning to flicker away. The hollow feeling, she usually felt replacing them.

This is fucked up.

This is fucked _up_.

She kept repeating to herself.

So, with a growing emptiness, Eve went about her morning routine. Getting washed and changed. Breakfast. And begin finding something to occupy her time with.

Two weeks without Niko.

Two weeks of an empty apartment.

It wasn’t until it turned ten minutes past twelve. Lunch time. That Eve saw a reply to her email.

She scanned through the document that had been forwarded.

Hugo Turner pinned to her mind.

It wasn’t too difficult to find his name.

Confirming her theory.

Feeling the low, twinge of hope returning.

Eve shouldn’t let herself have faith. Knew that it would only lead to more numbing emptiness. That she would be sent back to square one all over again.

Yet this time she wasn’t sure there would be a way out of it.

Therapy sessions helped. They gave Eve time to confront what she was feeling. But they weren’t a solution. A magical cure to everything, like Niko thought.

Eve felt that she was the only one that could get herself out of this. No, she knew she was the only one.

So how much would tracking down this women truly help her? Would it even be worth it in the end?

As she was about to close the email, Eve saw it. Eyes having drifted down to the last name.

_Villanelle Astankova._

Staring back up at her.

* * *

Villanelle hummed to herself as she organised bottles and glasses behind the bar.

They would be opening in the next two hours.

Friday’s always being one of the busiest days for the Twelve.

She was in a rare, genuine good mood.

Hugo’s text earlier in the day having lifted her spirits.

All she had to do now was wait. Eve would find her. Villanelle was sure of it.

Which was why she was unsurprised to have a call from Konstantin half hour later.

“Konstantin!”

She said loudly. Over exaggerated joy dripping off the word.

“Villanelle.”

“How is my favourite manager?”

He grunted.

“Do not play coy with me.”

She feigned a gasp. Hand placed over her heart.

“Me?”

“What did you do?”

Humming in mock thought.

“When? Tonight, yesterday, last week, you are being very cryptic Konstantin.”

“At the fundraiser on Monday.”

“Oh! That. I was good, no?”

“If you were good, then why have I had a call from Eve Polastri asking about you?”

Villanelle couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“What did she say?”

“She was interested in your work. Wanted to know where you will be next.”

“Did you tell her?”

There was a pause before he replied.

“Yes.”

The word rang in her mind.

Eve knew she was here. Knew Villanelle was working at the twelve.

“Villanelle?”

“Konstantin?”

Silence settled between them.

“Be careful.”

“I am always careful.”

“No. Do not play games, not with Polastri. This is different.”

It was. But Konstantin didn’t know the true depth of that word.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, I will be fine.”

“It isn’t just you I’m worried about.”

Villanelle sighed.

“I won’t be naughty ok?”

“Good.”

Their conversation didn’t last much longer after that.

Konstantin giving her one last warning before hanging up. And all she could bring herself to feel was trepidation.

Eve knew where she was. And it was only going to be a matter of time before their paths crossed again.

So, Villanelle carried on preparing for this evening’s opening.

A smile tugging at her lips the entire time.

She could wait.

* * *

The Twelve, Eve found out, was one of the most prestigious private clubs in London. An exclusive invitation list that people clamoured to try and be on.

It was located in Knightsbridge. One of London’s most expensive burrows.

From what images she’d managed to find of the place it was stylised with vintage furniture and fittings. It was different to most restaurants, bars and the occasional club she would visit with Niko.

Rather than clean cut lines and vibrant colours. This place appeared to have old wooden features. Such as a long, oak bar, accompanied by steel and wood stools with a pastel colour pallet.

It reminded Eve of the forties.

So, she’d sat. Laptop discarded on the coffee table in-front of her.

Contemplating whether to go or not.

Would it really help her? Would what Carolyn said hold any weight, or would she be proven wrong and this woman wouldn’t understand.

That Eve really had been delusional that night.

She doubted anything would change. That just because someone understood, if they understood, it would help her feel anything apart from crippling indifference was a thought born out of desperation.

_But what do you have left?_

If she was proven wrong, if this woman didn’t understand. Then nothing would change, she would stay in the repetitive circle that her life had become.

But what if she did, what if whoever she was did understand. Could help her.

Wouldn’t that break what her worst fear was? That this was how she would spend the rest of her days.

And in the end, if she didn’t go, nothing would change anyway would it?

With that thought in mind, Eve pulled up her contacts and dialled Dominik’s number.

What did she have to lose?

* * *

“Can I get two Negroni’s.”

Villanelle took the offered money. Tucking it into a pocket of her Apricot coloured dungarees before turning to prepare their drinks.

She wore a short sleeve, white cotton shirt. A floral pattern across its surface. Paired with navy slip-ons. And finally, her hair was done into a short ponytail behind her head.

It was quieter than most Friday’s. Finding a decline in drink orders.

Don’t get her wrong, it was still busy. People bustling across the dance floor, tightly packed. Just from when she was last here there had been more orders.

Turning around, Villanelle placed an orange slice into each glass before sliding them over.

“Thanks.”

He said, raising the glasses before turning and heading off into the crowd of people.

She couldn’t help the involuntary act of looking everyone over. Trying to see if she could find Eve.

“Hey, can I have a Mojito.”

Reluctantly, Villanelle turned to take the offered cash before beginning to prepare their drink.

Usually she enjoyed it. The act of combining a variety of liquors, how they swirled together. Complementing each other. It was unique. Each one always different to the last.

Yet tonight, she found her mind wandering. Picturing brown eyes and dark curls.

Villanelle hated waiting. It caused an itch to settle under her skin.

She’d always been an impatient person. Not able to sit still for much longer than a couple of minutes.

Most of the time she could deal with it fairly quick. Find something to occupy her time with. But she knew that wouldn’t work. Not tonight.

Slipping a lime wedge into the glass. She turned to hand it over.

Being met with a polite smile and thankful head nod before he too disappeared into the mass of people.

* * *

Orders began to blur together as the night went on. Villanelles interest wavering.

Usually she would have been able to occupy herself with small talk between orders. Strike up a conversation.

Yet tonight she had lost all interest. Just trying to finish each order as quickly as possible.

It was an hour before closing time when she’d had enough. Sick of waiting. The itch under her skin having reached its peak.

If Eve wasn’t going to show, then Villanelle would just have to accept that.

Find another way of quelling the itch.

So, when she turned to take her next order, Villanelle was prepared to not go home alone or even at all.

But when she was met with brown eyes and dark curls. She realised any amount of waiting was worth it.

Just to see her.

* * *

Eve watched as she prepared drink after drink. Appearing to float between ingredients and bottles.

She looked comfortable. At home even.

It was something Eve hadn’t felt in months.

She took in her appearance. The clothes she wore.

At the back of her mind Eve thought of how she looked like someone that could wear anything and make it appear fashionable.

The memory of Villanelle didn’t seem to do her justice.

_Villanelle._

Eve thought. The name sitting in her mind like a whirlpool.

For the first time in what felt like years she felt excited. It was almost foreign. Emotions she hadn’t felt in so long rising.

She was unable to push away the pang of hope in the pit of her stomach.

Eve felt as if she was thrown back years, decades. To the first time she had a crush on someone in High School.

A time in her life where she wasn’t burdened by reality. Where she didn’t have weekly therapy sessions. Where she felt in control of who she was.

Looking back, it felt as if it was a different person and maybe it was.

So, Eve pushed her way through the crowd of people.

Eyes glued to the blonde.

And with one last step she was stood in front of the bar.

Villanelles back was turned to her as she prepared another drink. Eve distantly aware of the person that had ordered it. Her focus solely being on the young woman in front of her.

She watched as Villanelle handed the drink over. Smiling politely, before finally turning in her direction.

* * *

Eve wore a mid-length, light brown, lapel trench coat. A navy and brown striped turtleneck underneath. Partnered with dark grey, checked trousers and suede boat shoes.

Villanelle absorbed every detail. Along with the desert taupe shade of lipstick and conditioned curls draped across her shoulders.

She was even more beautiful than she remembered.

Taking a step forward, Villanelle smiled. Finding it was genuine.

“What can I get you?”

Eve seemed to consider her words for a minute.

“White Russian.”

Villanelle couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips as she turned to gather the ingredients.

“How long have you worked here?”

“Three years.”

She said over her shoulder.

“How long have you been married?”

The question took Eve aback for a second. It’s blunt delivery.

“Almost eight years now.”

She could see Villanelle nod absentmindedly.

“Do you love him?”

That wasn’t a question she had expected. Out of everything Eve could have thought Villanelle would ask her, that hadn’t even made the list.

She was quickly gathering that the woman was up-front, honest. Almost brutally so. And If she were truthful it was refreshing. A breath of air in the world she was living in.

“I don’t know.”

And it was the truth, Eve found.

There was no time for her to think about them. What they still had, if they even had it anymore.

“Do you think you will leave him?”

Villanelle asked, turning to pass Eve her drink.

She chuckled mirthlessly. Hands grasping the glass tightly.

“No.”

And Eve wondered if that was what scared her more than anything else to do with their relationship.

She may not know what Niko was to her anymore, or what she was to Niko, but he had become a constant in her life.

And at the moment she couldn’t bring herself to jeopardise that in anyway. Frightened it would only send her deeper into what she was facing.

The drink was cool against her throat. Soothing. Eve thought.

She Found Villanelle staring at her as she took another mouthful. Her gaze piercing.

“What?”

She asked nervously after another slow sip. Feeling self-conscious.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Eve blinked. Once. Twice.

“You too.”

“Have you been here before?”

“No.”

“What do you think of it?”

Eve looked around for a minute. Fully taking in the furnishings rather than trying to recollect what she’d seen online.

“It’s nice.”

Villanelle chuckled.

“That is, it? _Nice_.”

She spoke the last word in almost perfect imitation of her voice.

Eve only shrugged in response.

“For someone so fashionable, you are not very good when it comes to décor Eve.”

“How do you know?”

“I know you live in a modern high-rise near St. Pauls, that it is bland. All new builds are. That you feel you have no connection to the place. That it is only a temporary residence in your mind, even if you don’t know it.”

Eve gripped the glass a little tighter.

“I know you don’t feel as if you have a home, anywhere to call yours. That you wake up each day feeling lonely. That you have felt it for so long you do not even know who you are anymore. That dressing up and buying these clothes has become something for you to focus on.”

_Emptiness. One that mirrored her own._

“And I know you would not be here if you weren’t. That you saw in me what I saw in you that night.”

She could dimly feel her hands begin to go numb from holding the cool glass for so long.

Each word Villanelle said spun around Eve’s mind.

That the small hope she held onto after the fundraiser, that someone understood. It only began to grow.

Part of Eve screamed at her not to hope. To not risk it. That Carolyn would help her, what coping mechanisms she had, they would be the solution.

Niko. He would be there for her.

Was, there for her.

But she couldn’t bring herself to listen. Not after everything. Not after months of feeling empty and finally finding someone who put everything she felt into words.

That someone understood her.

“We’ve only just met.”

Villanelle let out a soft chuckle.

“I know.”

She said simply before continuing.

“But it does not feel that way, does it?”

And god it didn’t.

“Can we talk?”

Eve asked, finally looking up at her. Being met with amused eyes.

“Are we not talking now?”

“No, yes— I mean… Can we go somewhere that isn’t here?”

Villanelle smiled, leaning forward.

“It is lucky my shift has just ended.”

Eve blinked at her words. Finding the slightest smile begin to tug at her lips.

“Stay here.”

She watched as Villanelle disappeared from behind the bar.

Finishing her drink, Eve sat, waiting for her. Distantly aware of someone walking up beside her.

She could hear as they huffed in annoyance. Muttering something under their breath.

“Do you know where the bartender is?”

It took Eve a minute to realise they were talking to her.

“No, sorry.”

She replied, turning to look at them.

It was the flicker of realisation that crossed their face that made her wish she could sink into the ground. Disappear.

“Aren’t you—”

“Eve!”

Villanelle said loudly, cutting in between the two of them. She turned to look at her.

Observing a denim jacket now wrapped around the young woman.

Fairly sure it was the same one from a couple of days back.

“Come on.”

She said, offering her hand to Eve.

It felt like an invitation.

A road leading out in-front of her.

And in this moment, Eve felt as if she could see a way back to who she was. After months of feeling hollow. Session after session, followed by advice from Carolyn. Trying to find coping mechanisms.

She swore there was the dimmest, almost unnoticeable light at the end of the tunnel.

And so, Eve leant forward. Entwining her fingers with Villanelles.

“Hey! What about my drink?”

She could hear someone shout from behind them.

Eve watched as Villanelle stuck her middle finger up flippantly. Could see a smirk painting her features.

Finding that a smile began to tug at the corners of her own mouth.

* * *

It wasn’t long before they were out on the street. Villanelle hailing a passing cab.

“I thought you said your shift was over?”

Eve asked as they both slid into the back of a waiting car.

“It was.”

She said simply. Having given directions to their driver.

“So why did that guy think it wasn’t?”

Villanelle only shrugged.

“I don’t know, maybe he was drunk? They can be very forgetful when they are intoxicated.”

Eve knew it was a lie, deciding not to bring it up.

Choosing to focus on the passing streetlights and buildings. How their hands rested, laced together on the seat between them.

Neither of them having let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be at somepoint, just have to wait and see when.
> 
> All the views on new builds are definitely not my own, don't @me.
> 
> Come shout at me on Twitter @Virelaiverse


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